


Gentle

by Claus_Lucas



Category: Mother 2: Gyiyg no Gyakushuu | EarthBound, Mother 3, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Romantic Fluff, Trans Male Character, Trauma, it's mostly fluff ok the angst is sugar coated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claus_Lucas/pseuds/Claus_Lucas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hard to keep secrets from Lucas when he wears his heart on his sleeve. There's just something compelling about a boy that doesn't hide his injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentle

**Author's Note:**

> i've wanted to write this since i was, maybe, 12

“You shouldn’t wear it for longer than eight hours at a time. It can hurt your chest,” Lucas says.

His body is supine, suspended by pillows and sheets, an improvised fort to fill the room where a mattress used to reside until it was deemed unqualified for their nighttime fun. Ness has his legs pressed to his chest, his body bent forward just a notch, enough to cascade over Lucas’s face and contemplate his gentle, doting grin.

Lucas’s hand, which is clasped around Ness’s, gives a tug. He raises his eyebrows, shooting Ness an expectant look as if immediate action were being requested. Ness rearranges his feet, closing his toes together, and he looks away, dismissing the intent. The outline of a scoff is forming in his throat, but before he can make a cutting remark, Lucas bursts into a stream of unprecedented laughter, throwing his unoccupied hand over his face to catch the tears pushing through the corners of his eyes.

Ness reels his head back, frowning somewhere between dread and indignation. Lucas tries to control the fit but it takes a while for his giggling to subside. Meanwhile lifts his chin, conjuring an aloof expression that is entirely faked.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to lecture _me_ ,” the younger boy says, and there’s that wobbling edge to his tone, like a dam restraining a flood, a few drops of water always managing to splash over the top of it. “You, who wears a binder all day, from the moment he wakes up until he knocks out, sometimes even while he sleeps –because he _forgets_ to take it off!”

The charade is a failure, already falling apart near the end, but Ness continues, attempting to disguise his affection with contempt.

“Where you really keeping track of time? When did you start, while watching me change in the bathroom?”

Lucas snorts, letting his hand slide off of his face and fall onto his chest. His eyes are bright with water but also tenderness. He makes his voice sound high and factual, as if he were reading from one of those self-help pamphlets that their teachers are always distributing during class.

“You have a spotless record, though. You keep track of the time yourself and make sure to remove it when it’s due. It’s only my _horrible_ influence, inviting you here and distracting you with my presence, that has caused you to overlook it this once,” says Lucas.

Ness knocks their clasped hands against his boyfriend’s shoulder. He doesn’t laugh, but there’s a bit of a smirk creeping into his lips as he sighs.

“I also forgot that I have to look after you, or you’ll ruin yourself with your unhealthy habits,” Ness says.

Hoisting himself up from the makeshift bed, Lucas draws his face close to the other’s, close enough that their noses accidentally bump into each other. His smile has spread into its most intricate design, clenched teeth and round, lifted cheeks, beaming underneath the hue of pastel pink blood that’s barely visible when it’s so dim.

“It’s not unhealthy to want to feel happy. To feel happy with whom you are,” he counters.

A little known secret about Lucas is that he has an opinion on almost everything, but his true colors only blossom while in the presence of those closest to him. Ness is one of those people.

There is scientific information that could threaten that statement but Ness sees no point in forcing a struggle when it started as harmless fun. They can give each other advice but ultimately they will follow their own visions, and Ness will insist on every occasion he gets that Lucas take care of himself before anything else. Whether Lucas opts for letting his ribs breathe or laying his hands across his chest without fear is up to him.

Ness is fond of following rules and establishing plans, scheduling his day before it begins and ensuring that the gears of his biological machine are finely tuned. Lucas comes from a similar mold, but his mind has been bruised by unfortunate encounters and poor decisions, most of which aren’t even his fault, he was just a magnet for bad luck in his early teen years, still sort of is. But he has more people looking out for him now –he has a better sense of what friendship and personal space means. The result, however, is that Lucas either acts on impulse and clings stubbornly to what he’s started or hesitates to the point of a panic attack and needs someone else to decide what he should do for him. It makes sense that his routine mostly entails trying but not succeeding at being consistent.

“I like feeling nice about myself,” Lucas told Ness once, back when they knew each other well but not well enough to dance together in public and kiss each other’s cheeks before heading for different classes. “I’ve spent most of my life being ashamed. I’m not there yet, but someday I’d like to love myself wholly.”

Ness heard those words and then heard them again, lots of times, in his head, sometimes in his dreams. They’d sneak up on him unexpectedly, without prompting, emerging from the wilderness of a streaming consciousness.

In a recurring dream he’d be sitting next to Lucas on the floor of his bedroom, their hands touching for some reason, Ness’s shoulder supporting Lucas’s head, and Lucas talked to him about how he felt, how much he wanted Ness to know all about him. Ness would wake up and remember that throughout his life he’s been prone to prophetic dreams, then smile in a sad sort of way because that was probably just hormones, not destiny.

Maybe it was an ounce of each.

Ness thinks Lucas is nice. In fact, he thinks Lucas is the most beautiful boy he’s ever known. And he tells him often, but not as often as it pops into his mind, because he’s always afraid of coming off as overbearing. But Lucas looks at him like he knows, like he doesn’t need to be reminded, because nine out of ten times their eyes meet, Lucas immediately grins, as if the simple act of recognition brought him immense pleasure.

Lucas likes feeling appreciated. He’s never known love of this kind before, of the kind where it goes both ways and one side isn’t pulling the weight for both parties. He likes the idea of being comforted when he’s upset and being listened to when he’s angry. There’s a lot about this relationship that he likes, and talking about it would just be the start, it wouldn’t even be able to describe what people think they can when they say things like, “And then they kissed.”

And then they kissed, Lucas’s breath sucking into his teeth right before his lips touched Ness’s, the grip of his fingers tightening because he’s happy and trying to hold onto something. Ness doesn’t close his eyes, just blinks, opens his mouth to welcome it. There was a time when they would only kiss after thirty minutes of staring at each other without moving, their faces heavy with perspiration and blush, eager but lacking some sort of security, a rhythm they could depend on. They found it at some point and haven’t looked back since.

As Lucas moves closer, as the shifting of his body consumes the space between them, Ness can feel their collarbones rub against each other and then their chests finally touch. It’s a strange sort of feeling, small part nostalgia, big part relief –a huge breath of air, inhaled too quickly but nonetheless refreshing. And it makes him wonder again about what Lucas says, about choosing what makes you happy over of what you think is best for you. Ness won’t ever agree with Lucas putting himself in danger when it’s not exactly an emergency, but he wouldn’t dream of pushing his boyfriend in the direction he wasn’t absolutely, unquestionably certain he wanted to head.

* * *

Lucas wears his heart on his sleeve. This isn’t to imply that he’s utterly transparent, but rather that he doesn’t shy away from revealing his secrets, regardless of how deep and sensitive. He has phobias adorned with frames, hanging from the tone his voice adopts when someone screams and he recoils, suddenly incapable of articulation. He has asphalt colored streaks beneath his eyes that he doesn’t bother to paint over with makeup so everyone can get an idea of how he struggles to settle the anxiety that keeps him awake most nights. He has a collection of safety phrases and habits, a tendency to rock when he can’t concentrate and walk in circles when his paranoia taunts that something terrible is on its way to ruin him.

Lucas has chronic depression, the result of a biological disposition and the misgivings littering his upbringing. By the time those around him realized he wasn’t spending all that time with scissors cutting his hair, there were already scars on his skin that continue to sting now that they’ve disappeared. He spins rings when he’s alone so he won’t pick at his knuckles and chews on toys so he won’t mess up his lips. There is no situation he dreads more than being called a disappointment, whether by a friend or a family member or a stranger that he’s seeing for the first time.

But there is no apology in his soft spoken voice, in the tender and mild and often melancholic appearance of his “default” disposition. He does not apologize when he asks for time alone from social interaction. He does not preface a declaration of distress with “Sorry if I’m overreacting.”

On their first day as freshmen, Ness and Lucas has been enrolled in the same first period class. Ness sat in the same row as Lucas, which was the front row, with three desks between them. Forty eight minutes into their introductory class, where nothing much happened except the work plan being explained, Lucas had a fit that started with him hyperventilating and ended with the nurse’s office administrating a medication until his mother arrived to pick him up. The following day, as they met in the same class at the same time, Lucas showed no sign of the past disturbance, and there were murmurs from his classmates but the teacher was silent on the matter.

“Hey, are you all right?” Ness asked once class was over. He thought of it as an act of kindness. Lucas turned to look at him and responded, “I’m hardly all right, but doing my best.”

Ness would be lying if he didn’t admit he was impressed, then and many times more, and many times still, as every interaction with Lucas is a reflection of that energy, that conviction to make the best of himself and his inconveniences. Ness, who has his fair share of difficulties but is quick to accept defeat when he can’t outrun them, was profoundly affected by the existence of an individual that had fallen face down on the concrete of a street, tasted blood in his mouth, and stood up to be hit again.

There is someone terrible in Lucas’s past, whose name is not uttered because he’s not yet at the stage where he can take away the power it holds, that left him wanting to feel needed in a spiteful, possessive manner until he decided he’d fake it until he made it by pretending he valued himself better.

So far he’s making it.

Lucas wears his heart on his sleeve and all his injuries in plain view, even when their stitches are pulled loose, even when they bleed. There’s just no way Ness could keep his secrets locked for long. Without even trying, their little dialogues inspired Ness to speak more openly than he had with anyone before. And Lucas would always make this face afterwards, a surprised sort of smile and his eyes staring straight into him, into the beating, aching heart of the matter.

He’d say, “I didn’t know that about you Ness,” like he was honored, like this was a precious possession Ness had handed over.

Lucas took it as if he weren’t worthy, but he never tried to return it. He did not say, “You shouldn’t have,” or “How could you trust me with it?”

Lucas would nod and continue, as if it had not transpired between them, or, rather, as if the fact that it transpired did not damage their relationship.

Ness is fond of this exchange, this symbiosis, where they give and they gain simultaneously. Lucas says that he was shocked Ness even wanted to engage him, and there was really no question in his mind that he would accept his friendship if and when it was offered. Lucas does not have nearly as many friends as Ness, that much is a fact. But Lucas chooses his friendly carefully and from those that’ll acknowledge him, and so from the beginning there is an agreement: of trust, of likeness, of vulnerability.

The first time Ness was in Lucas’s house, Lucas wasted no time in telling him about his living space, about the mess in his room, the permanently shut blinds, the books without spines and his collection of seashells that shouldn’t be moved, please don’t move them, I organized them carefully and painfully. Ness didn’t have to ask. By then he was starting to understand, he was absorbing information as it was rationed out. When Lucas finally agrees to let Ness spend the night, there’s a long monologue he’s prepared regarding his sleeping habits, the whims of his brain at night, how unreliable his schedule is, and how Ness can expect to be slapped, to be kicked, to be pushed out of the blankets if he chooses to sleep in the same bed. One more thing, Lucas adds: I talk in my sleep –sometimes I even scream.

This ongoing self-introduction, a cycle of revelations and expectations, they’re like a child testing water with their finger to see whether it’s warm enough to submerge their entire body. Lucas does not want to scare his friends away, but he is under no illusion that people will like him more if he hides bits and pieces of himself. He believes in honesty and understanding above all other virtues. And he is an excellent judge of character. Lucas, from mingling with some of the worst kinds of people, knows when he’s looking at someone similar, and when he’s looking at the complete opposite.

Ness likes to take his time to open up to people, to divulge his hidden truths, to profess his potentially problematic opinions. Lucas says this is fine, in fact it might be better, to get to know someone well before you introduce them to your twin brother and make it clear that you have an inferiority complex depending perilously on whether you like him more than Lucas (“I’m not saying you can’t like Claus. He is my brother –I love him, and he’s a good person. But if you like hanging out with him more than me, don’t pretend otherwise.”); it’s probably for the best if you find out how comfortable someone is with being close to you before you snuggle up next to them in bed because you’re used to doing that with people around you.

“We’re different then,” says Ness. “We’re vastly, complexly different. Polar opposites in certain fields.”

“And we get along pretty well,” Lucas answers, “More than _pretty well_. We’re opposites that attracted.”

* * *

“I thought you’d never ask me to do anything with you again,” Lucas admits.

His voice and expression don’t match: he sounds relieved, but his face is tense with apprehension. He speaks through lowered eyebrows and a frown.

“Why wouldn’t I want to do anything with you?” Ness asks, genuinely surprised.

He just asked Lucas if he’d like to come over after school. It’s a simple enough invitation. They stay at each other’s houses quite often.

Lucas can’t meet Ness’s inquiring gaze for this one. Something ancient and arduous is stirring awake inside his chest. Lucas opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it. He mumbles something, barely audible, utterly indecipherable.

Ness notices that Lucas’s fists are clenched. Seconds lapse into silence and they start to tremble. Lucas’s entire body is shaking.

Measuring at least five inches shorter than Lucas, Ness has to crane his neck a little bit to seek his face, which has bent downward in what appears to be an attempt at concealing something. Lucas, who has thus far presented himself without shame or deceit, is showing that he has something he’d rather not address between them.

That’s fine, Ness thinks. That’s perfectly fine. I won’t ask about it. I’ll just move on, tell him about my day, what I’d like to do once he comes over, or maybe first I should ask if he does want to come over since technically he didn’t agree, and I don’t want to impose if he’s not ready–

Just then Lucas does something unexpected: he leans forward until his head is beside Ness, a single exhale brushing the top of his left ear, and then Lucas speaks. It’s a soft, distinctly hurt tone he employs, reprimanding itself even as it professes.

“You saw I wasn’t born a boy.”

Ness actually holds his breath. The entire minute that follows, during which neither of them moves, Ness is thinking: that’s no big deal. That isn’t bad. Why is he acting so upset? He hasn’t done anything wrong.

But, for once, Ness can’t word is so nonchalantly. The wrong words will break Lucas’s heart, which is already in his throat, prepared to be thrown up. Ness has one shot at not screwing this up.

And he knows that because Lucas’s fear is so palpable and agonizing tears cut through his eyes and fall down his face. Lucas can’t see it because he’s staring in the opposite direction and Ness has given no verbal response, merely stood there like a fool and now about to dislocate his mind from what next guides his movements.

“I know,” says Ness, strong, affirmative, like it was at some point a question and Lucas asked for Ness’s opinion. “I do.”

Lucas backs away to see Ness’s face and the instant their eyes connect, Ness adds, “I know exactly what you are.”

It’s the most terrifying moment in their relationship –more than when Ness almost accidentally sets his room on fire while fixing a television set, more than when he doesn’t hear from Lucas for an entire week, then gets a phone call from his mother asking him to come to the hospital– and it’s because this is a moment of perceived rejection, from both of their sides; a moment when it seems like they will lose their best friend not to the gnawing of their past and the stress of their present but the discovery of something that they can’t accept about the other.

Lucas’s face floods with dismay. Ness’s is fierce and unwavering. Their hands connect as Ness takes a hold of Lucas and yanks. He turns to walk away, pulling Lucas behind him, but breaks into a sprint and they’re both rushing through the hall until they’ve reached the stairs, at which point they start going down, three sets of steps to reach the ground floor. The whole time Ness isn’t heading for anywhere in particular, he’s just venting energy, he’s concentrating his mind, so he can finally stop abruptly near the end of the staircase and shout at Lucas.

By now Lucas is in between bewilderment and despair, his cheeks red.

“You have to come over to my house today okay! Just promise you will! You can hate me afterwards and never talk to me if you want but you have to come this one time!”

Lucas has started blubbering. He pulls his hand out of Ness’s grip and covers his face with both hands. He sucks in phlegm before he can speak.

“I could never hate you, Ness.”

* * *

Lucas never said if it was intentional or not: if he just wasn’t being careful to not get caught or if he had deliberately placed himself in a position where Ness was likely to find out. Ness never asked.

What stands is what Ness can remember, that evening before he left Lucas’s house, backpack hoisted over his shoulder, a spare book nestled between his arm and torso. He had turned to say goodbye to his friend, who he assumed was still in his bedroom, so he opened the door just enough to fit his head inside and holler. It took him a quarter of a minute to recompose what he’d planned to say when he saw Lucas with his shirt in his hands. The entire time, Lucas gazed at him with a blank expression, as if he hadn’t processed the situation entirely, or simply hadn’t cared (his reaction the following day would prove otherwise). Ness conveyed shock, but it was not for the reason Lucas later assumed.

Ness, for the first time, was faced with what it meant for _someone else_ to pass.

Tall, with a flat chest (Ness now knew why) and thick shoulders, a distinctly masculine jaw, and what’s probably the most vital factor of all, an unquestionable _voice_ , Lucas was not evidently trans. Well, that’s the point of passing –you pass.

Obviously Ness passed pretty decently himself (he’s a late bloomer compared to Lucas, who started the process of correction and assimilation a handful of years earlier, but, based on a comparison of themselves as children, Lucas had a lot more to “disguise”) because Lucas assumed he was a cis boy, and not just _any_ cis boy but an _angry_ cis boy, a defensive cis boy, a cis boy that _can’t_ be friends with a non cis boy. Ness almost felt insulted, but then Lucas could feel the same, so Ness just spent an hour –after Lucas arrived at his house, as he promised he would– juggling between laughing and explaining. In retrospect, the whole ordeal seemed quite comedic.

Ness can’t say he’s relieved Lucas is trans, but if he’s destined to date one of his classmates, it makes things easier if it’s the _other_ trans boy.

* * *

People noticed before them. They didn’t ask if Lucas and Ness were dating: they assumed. Claus asked Lucas if they wanted to go on a double date with him and Fuel. Paula had this idea that they’d gone steady on a certain date and congratulated them on their anniversary. Tracy and her mother pretended it was their secret, while being really obvious, giggling together and then saying things like, “So, Ness, are you going to tell us about your special friend yet?” Lucas’s parents were actually much worse, but they had good intentions –over dinner, they tried to make it clear that Ness had their blessing.

It was Ness that finally asked, “Are we dating?”

To which Lucas replied, “I guess we are, but we can stop if that’s what you prefer.”

Ness didn’t say something cool like, “I’d prefer to continue,” or “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He would’ve liked to, but what he did instead was grab Lucas’s hand and smile, a timid and unexpectedly triumphant smile. Lucas responded by rubbing his thumb into Ness’s knuckles, crouching down, not enough for them to kiss (they wouldn’t for a while still), but their foreheads touched and Lucas gave a short, elated laugh.

From day one, they were embarrassing.

* * *

Lucas has a horrible history of insomnia, but when his brain finally knocks out, be it at midnight or the middle of the afternoon, it’s a matter of minutes, and his awareness during that period is next to null. It’s a common event that Lucas passes out during their nightly conversations. Ness spends the night at Lucas’s house more often than the other way around because Lucas has strict bedtime rituals he must adhere to if he wishes to sleep at all and most of them are only possible in his home environment. Ness, for his own part, is quite fond of the fort they build out of pillows and blankets each time he comes over. It’s something they started doing during the first months of their friendship and have since adopted as customary. Sometimes they skip out on it and just crash in Lucas’s mattress, but it’s the rare exception.

Ness is generally a sound, healthy sleeper. He has an internal clock that wakes him up in time for school and sometimes on the weekend, too, so he makes an effort to go to bed at a decent time most nights. He’d feel bad falling asleep before Lucas, though, knowing how much he struggles and how Ness’s company as a conversation partner helps him avoid succumbing to toxic thoughts. So Ness waits for Lucas, makes sure to stay up as long as it takes to see him through the night, whether that means closing his eyes at seven in the morning or dodging sleep altogether.

With their face practically touching and Lucas’s hand still resting on Ness’s cheek, he’s clearly fallen asleep. Ness is tempted to laugh, but he’ll try to keep the noise he makes to a minimal. He doesn’t want to accidentally disturb Lucas.

Ness removes Lucas’s hand from his face and holds it to his chest. He bestows a kiss upon his forehead and then lays his head between Lucas’s shoulder and head, face turned towards his neck.

In the morning the blinds are still shut and the scarce light that trickles through the cracks is blotted out by the blankets hung over their heads. Lucas has turned in his sleep once and kicked Ness twice but on both occasions exhaustions kept him from rousing. Ness face is still snuggled into Lucas’s neck, though now from behind. His arms are wrapped around Lucas’s waist.

* * *

They’re having a game of baseball. Ness taught Lucas how to play. Lucas grew up terrified of sports, refusing to put any serious effort into them for fear of losing. He was one of those kids that couldn’t learn to have fun under the pressure of competition.

But Ness and his friends have formed a team and they rotate who plays on which side, so technically it’s everyone against everyone, or as Lucas prefers to think of it, everyone _with_ everyone.

There are no points and nobody loses. It’s purely for the good time they have together, and it’s changing Lucas’s perspective on sports remarkably. He’s actually open to the idea of learning some others –under Ness’s instruction, who is quite avid in the sports world himself.

Lucas tries a wide swing and hits the ball, sending it soaring. Paula, the closest person to it, starts running in the direction it’s falling with her gloved hand stretched in front of her.

Ness, who is waiting by a nearer base, makes a peace sign with his fingers. Lucas sees it and flashes a smile, then mirrors the gesture. With the bat resting on his shoulder and Ness’s hat on his head, he’s looking pretty confident.

* * *

Across Lucas’s right wrist, there is an elongated scar that looks like the result of a burn. The skin there always grows rugged, as if it were still inflated. It’s also tainted a slightly redder tone, though it’s hard to notice since it runs parallel to the blue line of a vein.

The scar is not from a burn, but was passed as such. To curious friends and strangers alike, he explains it as the result of tripping on something while walking through the kitchen and knocking his wrist against the heated oven. In reality it’s the strange texture that his skin adopted after he scraped it off with a knife, bit by bit, until his wrist was so raw he was too scared to continue. He picked on every scab that tried to heal the wound, and as a result it became tougher, less smooth, what it looks like today. As far as scars go, Lucas thinks it’s okay. He doesn’t mind having it.

Ness kisses the palm of Lucas’s hand and then his wrist, and Lucas laughs because it tickles him.


End file.
